On Waterloo Bridge where we said our goodbyes,
the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.
I wipe them away with a black woolly glove
And try not to notice I've fallen in love
On Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think:
This is nothing. you're high on the charm and the drink.
But the juke-box inside me is playing a song
That says something different. And when was it wrong?
On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair
I am tempted to skip. You're a fool. I don't care.
the head does its best but the heart is the boss-
I admit it before I am halfway across
~ Wendy Cope ...
Wouldn't it be a lovely date; a long long lunch/picnic at St. James Park, a walk across the river at Waterloo Bridge, and read this awfully sweet poem at the National Poetry Library at Royal Festival Hall?
15 June 2009
03 June 2009
A date in row E ...
by Wendy Cope ...
First Date: He
She said she liked classical music.
I implied I was keen on it too.
Though I don’t often go to a concert,
It wasn’t entirely untrue.
I looked for a suitable concert
And here we are, on our first date.
The traffic was dreadful this evening
And I arrived ten minutes late.
So we haven’t had much time for talking
And I’m a bit nervous. I see
She is totally lost in the music
And quite undistracted by me.
In that dress she is very attractive —
The neckline can’t fail to intrigue.
I mustn’t appear too besotted.
Perhaps she is out of my league.
Where are we? I glance at the programme
But I’ve put my glasses away.
I’d better start paying attention
Or else I’ll have nothing to say.
First Date: She
I said I liked classical music.
It wasn’t exactly a lie.
I hoped he would get the impression
That my brow was acceptably high.
I said I liked classical music.
I mentioned Vivaldi and Bach.
And he asked me along to this concert.
Here we are, sitting in the half-dark.
I was thrilled to be asked to the concert.
I couldn’t decide what to wear.
I hope I look tastefully sexy.
I’ve done what I can with my hair.
Yes, I’m thrilled to be here at this concert.
I couldn’t care less what they play
But I’m trying my hardest to listen
So I’ll have something clever to say.
When I glance at his face it’s a picture
Of rapt concentration. I see
He is totally into this music
And quite undistracted by me.
First Date: He
She said she liked classical music.
I implied I was keen on it too.
Though I don’t often go to a concert,
It wasn’t entirely untrue.
I looked for a suitable concert
And here we are, on our first date.
The traffic was dreadful this evening
And I arrived ten minutes late.
So we haven’t had much time for talking
And I’m a bit nervous. I see
She is totally lost in the music
And quite undistracted by me.
In that dress she is very attractive —
The neckline can’t fail to intrigue.
I mustn’t appear too besotted.
Perhaps she is out of my league.
Where are we? I glance at the programme
But I’ve put my glasses away.
I’d better start paying attention
Or else I’ll have nothing to say.
First Date: She
I said I liked classical music.
It wasn’t exactly a lie.
I hoped he would get the impression
That my brow was acceptably high.
I said I liked classical music.
I mentioned Vivaldi and Bach.
And he asked me along to this concert.
Here we are, sitting in the half-dark.
I was thrilled to be asked to the concert.
I couldn’t decide what to wear.
I hope I look tastefully sexy.
I’ve done what I can with my hair.
Yes, I’m thrilled to be here at this concert.
I couldn’t care less what they play
But I’m trying my hardest to listen
So I’ll have something clever to say.
When I glance at his face it’s a picture
Of rapt concentration. I see
He is totally into this music
And quite undistracted by me.
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